


Wayne Family Vacation

by Batastic_Grayson



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Airports, Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Family Fluff, Fluff, Happy, Multi, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Travel, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16148339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batastic_Grayson/pseuds/Batastic_Grayson
Summary: Bruce decides it's time he and the boys take a proper vacation out of Gotham City. Traveling with family is tough, but traveling with the Waynes is even tougher.





	Wayne Family Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a whim. It's a fluffy, short piece with lots of family squish. Enjoy!   
> I do not own the characters. I do own the story!

            Vacation.

            The idea, in and of itself, sounds sedate enough. Relaxing even. In an ideal world, the all-American family embarks on a trip to some remote destination with luggage in tow. They spend a week snorkeling in crystal waters or skiing bunny hills in the Alps. The experience is a much-needed break from the grind of regular life, and the family returns home tanned, wind-burnt, and cheerful. Ready to face the ebb and flow of routine again.

            This is not an ideal world though. And the Waynes are certainly not an all-American family.

            I withdraw the itinerary Alfred had carefully scrawled out in looped, cursive handwriting from my wallet. The top of the sheet reads “Wayne Family Vacation 2018”, and he’s bullet-pointed several agenda items below. The resort name, telephone numbers, agencies specializing in extreme sports, massages, and animal encounters. He’s even listed the United States’ embassy address and number, and I imagine him adding that particular bit to the end of the note with a cheeky smile.

            I’m a bit chagrinned that I needed the help at all in planning this vacation, but it isn’t everyday that I try to shuttle myself and the four boys out of country for some R&R. In fact, it’s the first time we’ve ever gone out of Gotham like this for the express reason of vacationing. When I had proposed the idea to Alfred last March, his expression had gone downright dreamy. He’d begun helping me plan immediately, with the kind of zeal that told me he would be glad to have the house to himself for a couple weeks.

            Which is why I now find myself in the middle of the Quito airport, juggling at least five backpacks and seven water bottles. I’m parked outside the restroom, trying to guard the bags while the boys use the restroom after our most recent flight. Five hours in a crowded plane, although not the longest of flights, has put a tax on us all, and it certainly shows.

            Damian is the first to wander out the bathrooms, and he stoops to collect his bag from my feet with a grimace and blood-shot eyes. Tim and Dick follow shortly after, looking haggard in wrinkled t-shirts and sweats. They exchange sticks of gum from their bags wordlessly, probably having noted the overall presence of nap-breath plaguing our group. Jason is the last to emerge. I’m not surprised to see that he’s rolled his sweats at his ankles, tying his sweatshirt around his waist.

            My children look like very tired hobos, and after a glance down at my own rumpled clothing, I’m sure I don’t look far behind.

            We stand like zombies in a huddle for a moment, watching each other with glassy eyes, trying to figure out what time it is in Gotham (sometime past four in the morning). Dick and I go over the itinerary in mumbled tones, while Tim and Jason fight over the one set of earphones we managed to bring between the five of us. It’s Damian who eventually leans his head into my arm, scowling out at the passersby.

            “I’m hungry, father.”

            Jason grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s still pouting over losing the headphones to Tim. “Yeah, me too. I could seriously go for a bagel right now.”

            Tim hums, smiling lightly as he pops one headphone out to join the conversation, “Mmm, I want a Danish. One of the cream cheese ones with raspberry.”

            “Nah, it’s an omelette kind of morning,” Dick adds, miming the action of flipping an omelette, “Mushrooms, peppers, cheese…all the fixings.”

            Jason makes a face, “Mushrooms? I hate mushrooms.”

            “What? Alfred makes it with mushrooms.”

            “No, he doesn’t.”

            “What do you think the little diced bits are?”

            “Those aren’t mushrooms. I would know if they were mushrooms.”

            “Oh really? Because you’ve been eating—”

            I massage my temples with the heels of my hands, trying to remind myself of the sandy shores, the hammocks, the alcoholic beverages…just waiting for me after I make it through these next twenty-four hours of travel. I can do this. I’ve faced the Joker, intergalactic peril, complete planetary destruction…I can certainly handle four children arguing over mindless drivel for a little while longer.

            I interrupt the argument between Dick and Jason, now growing a bit heated, with a raised hand and a sigh, “Let’s just find something without arguing please?”

            Jason scowls, “Well then tell _Richard_ here that Alfred doesn’t use mushrooms in the omelettes.”

            Dick, knowing he’s won already, lifts a brow and smirks, “You’re just sour because you’ve been eating fungus for the last ten years and you didn’t even know it.”

            “You’re such a liar, you know that? Alfred would never—”

            I feel my patience wearing dangerously thin, like a sock running threadbare in a shoe, and it’s only a matter of time before I snap completely. I settle on a stern growl, and blessedly, I manage not to slap both of them upside the head.  

            “Boys! For the love of God, please at least _try_ to act like adults. We are all very tired, and bickering is certainly not helping anything.”

            Damian snickers at my side, and Tim smothers a laugh when both the eldest fall pitiable silent. They manage to glare at each other still when I throw both their packs at them, but they don’t resume the dispute as we begin trudging through the airport in search of food. It’s a long trek through several terminals before we find anything that’s open at this hour, and we’re all a little disappointed at the lack of options. Still, we’re hungry enough that we’d eat just about anything at this point, so we settle for the day-old breakfast sandwiches quietly.

            I order double what I think we should need, and we seat ourselves in chairs at a vacant gate in the far corner. We all take our stale food greedily like we haven’t eaten in days, and it disappears in a matter of minutes.

            When we’ve finished, Jason leans back in his seat and belches loudly. I level him with a glare Alfred would be proud of, to which he just rubs his belly with a drowsy grin, “What?”

            Damian sneers, “You’re disgusting.”

            I split my expression between a disapproving frown in Damian’s direction and a lifted brow in Jason’s. “Manners, Jason.”

He shrugs, still patting his stomach affectionately, “Oh. Sorry.”

I shake my head ruefully, unable to help the small smile that tilts my mouth, “Alfred would be horrified. You would think you were raised by wild animals.”

            Dick chuckles, crinkling up the wrapper of his last sandwich before volleying it into the trash can nearest him, “Well he was raised by you.”

            Jason smirks, “Careful there, blue. He raised you too.”

            As if to prove a point, Dick burps loudly and forgoes excusing himself entirely. He and Jason dissolve into a round of giggles and burps, bending over in laughter with teary eyes as they try to out-gross one another. The whole condition is further exacerbated by sleep-deprivation, and it’s all I can do to look away from the spectacle. Alfred would certainly bemoan my breach in parenting, but I just don’t have the energy to make them behave like human beings today.

            Damian is disgusted by the whole display, and he wastes no time in curling up next to me and closing his eyes for a power nap. He’s frightfully responsible for a twelve-year-old, so it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s the most behaved of the group, but it still does somehow. I guess I got so used to the other boys’ flare for immaturity that Damian’s brand just seems so much more sedate.

            I am immensely glad it is. I would never, not in a million years, have brought Jason or Dick on a vacation when they were twelve. Tim would’ve been a gamble enough, but the other two were absolute terrors at Damian’s age. I watch them try to recover from their bout of giggling, only to fall into another round of howling laughter after one of them lets slip a fart.

            I stifle a laugh and shake my head. My God, they’re still little terrors.

            Tim has taken his station in the seat next to me, and he leans his head against my shoulder in the familiar way that is distinctly him. Like Dick, he’s never been shy about cuddling, and age hasn’t changed that. He’s sixteen, but he still doesn’t mind leaning into my shoulder and playing solitaire on his phone with me. We do this for several minutes while Jason and Dick eventually wind down, and it’s no surprise when we fall into a well-worn pattern.

            Damian is asleep against me, drooling into the sleeve of my sweater, but he has a hand wrapped protectively around mine even in sleep. Tim and I are leaned together, shuffling cards on the small screen of his phone and murmuring about which way to shift decks. Jason and Dick have apprehended the only set of headphones and are sharing them between each other, watching something on a glowing cellphone. From the sleepy look on Jason’s face and Dick’s grin, it’s probably a cartoon of some sort. SpongeBob is a family favorite.

            I smile despite myself, thinking about how difficult travel is. The potty breaks and the arguing, the almost missed flights and the whining about food. The moments in which I want to strangle them all, and the moments when I want to melt I love them so much.

            I card a hand through Damian’s hair absently, leaning my temple to the top of Tim’s head with a sigh. Frankly, I never expected a life like this for myself. After my parents died, I was fully prepared for a life alone. The Batman and me, against the world…and for a while, that was true.

            And then Dick came along, and he changed me. The others followed, and every time, I became something new. I grew softer and stronger in turns, more compassionate, more alive. My children, Diana, Clark…with every member I’ve added to the family, I look back and realize how surrounded I am by those I love. For a man who was utterly convinced he would spend his days alone…I’ve somehow accrued a very large, colorful family.

Sometimes, I can’t help but thinking that my parents, although long gone, look down and see the family I’ve built for myself. I hope, somehow, that they see the boys and love them like I do. That they’re proud of my kids, and proud of how I parent them. It’s a hidden thought that sometimes lingers when I look at the boys, and for once, I don’t tuck it away. I let it stay tonight.

            Jason has fallen into a food coma, one cheek pressed ungracefully into his brother’s shoulder. Dick doesn’t seem to mind, and after a moment, he swipes off the cartoons and leans back in the chair with shuttered eyes too. Damian snores into my sleeve, twitching in his sleep in a way that reminds me of a slobbery dog more than a little boy. And Tim, bless him, has abandoned solitaire in favor of listening to a recording of rainfall. He nuzzles into me with closed eyes, and like the others, he falls asleep.

            I sigh, feeling warmth like a river spread all the way to my toes. I let myself relax into the sensation of belonging, of feeling so very implanted in something that it becomes quintessential to your being, and I smile. I smile so much I forget what it feels like to frown, and God does it feel good to be happy. I’m tired and stressed and way too old for this kind of travel, but damn does it feel good to be happy.

            I fall asleep surrounded by my kids, and for the first time since we began this trip, I feel thankful we came. This is going to be good for me. Good for us.

            The first Wayne family vacation of many.

           

 

           

           

           

           


End file.
